Bob Help Me
by Don't Mess With Aria
Summary: A simple dockworker finds out what's it's like to be huskified.


I'm loading skiffs at the docks on the day I die twice.

The weather is nice, breezy and sunny, but not too bright. Good outdoor weather. I'm talking with the other dockworkers, shooting the shit about work and home and kids and not really thinking about the whatever-it-was we found a few days prior. Some kind of magic Bacon from the Proteins, I joke, already having forgotten what it was supposed to be, and we all ha-ha and blah-blah, but no one here is really interested.

When the noise starts, we're all just kinda confused. What's-his-name isn't here, so he can't tell us to stop or keep working. Half of us wander a little, the other half stay smart keep working. Never know when you're gonna get canned on a job like this. What, am I gonna go decide to be a soldier or something? Or an archy-olojist, and find out what the Bacon's about? I keep my nose down.

That's how I don't see them when they show up. The hit one of the looky-loos first, and I guess now I'm a looky-loo, cause I just gotta turn and see what's happening. I'm shot in the chest, just like that, and I fall. The guy who shot me isn't a guy, but a robot, and I wonder how that could happen? Robots aren't supposed to do that unless they're Geth, and the Geth have been gone for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. I couldn't have been more surprised if the Mongrel Horde had shown up.

Well, this isn't so bad, anyways. I'm one of the ones without kids, so at least I know no one's gonna be too sad about me. The other guys and gals, though … well, most of them have families to miss them, I guess. I close my eyes, waiting for the pain to just go ahead and kill me. I'm done.

#

When I wake up, I'm not happy. I was supposed to be dead. I was okay with that. Instead, I'm awake and there's this big spike through my stomach. I feel like a shish-ka-bob. I wiggle a little, surprised to find it doesn't hurt. You'd think a pole that big going right through your gut would hurt, but this isn't so bad. Shisk-ka-bob, I think again. Shish-ka-Bob? Oh, it's a joke.

Which one of us was Bob? Well, that's just great. I try to remember, and I've got nothing. I think Bob had two kids, a boy and a girl. Was that me? I remember the kids. I guess they were mine; I guess I'm Bob.

I hear a grunt and try to look around my spike. There are more spikes beyond me. I mean to tell the grunter that it's going to be fine. I mean, just cause you're dead and covered in wiring and shit, doesn't mean it won't be alright. Nothing comes out of me but another grunt, though.

_Help, help me. _ I can't tell who's thinking it. But once it starts, it picks up steam fast. In a minute, I'll be flooded. All of us are thinking about our families, about work that wasn't finished, about mountains we wanted to climb – me, I coulda been a soldier. Damn good soldier. And all the time, I'm begging for help, just like all the others.

I'm thinking I'll have to pass out even though I don't quite remember the trick. But then, there's a tone from the sky, a yellow note that soothes us. I don't have to worry because the music will take care of us, it will tell us what to do. All us Bobs will be just fine.

#

_Help. Please, help me._ When I wake again, we're all pretty upset. Some of us are stuck on these spikes, still, and where is the music from before? It's gone, and we're scared. _Help me. Please, God, just help me._ My spike comes down, and I get to my feet. Is someone helping me?

I'm still all blue and corpsey, but there are soldiers here. Soldiers, like I used to be.

And oh, shit, if one of them isn't Commander Shepard! He was in the vids a while back. Don't remember why, but he's some kind of hero. I shuffle towards him. He'll help me, won't he? Of course he will.

Half my face is missing before I realize what's happening. I look up to the sky with the eye that remains. I'm on the ground, somehow; that must have happened after he shot me.

_Help, Bob and Jesus help me, please help._

Yes, Bob needs help. Go help Bob, don't help me.

Commander Shepard stands over me, pointing his pistol towards my face.

I guess he helps me after all.


End file.
